Marriage by Proxy

by Cathy Duke

  “What happened next?” Bradley asked.

  “They brought me back to England. They allowed me to mourn for a year. Then I married Gavin Metcaffe.” Why did they do that? And I was grateful they had forgiven me and took me back. But what happened to her? Who took care of her?” Bea was angry now and confused. She was sorting the information as fast as she could.

  “Perhaps you should meet her. Does Uncle Gavin know any of this?”

  “Yes, I told him what I knew to be true. My parents did not want him to know. But I could not marry him without telling him. He is in love with me you see, and forgives a lot. I am indeed fortunate. He deserved the truth. And of course, it did not matter to him. Living with secrets is not pleasant.”

  “Yes, I have always liked Gavin and he seems a fair fellow.”

  “Where is she?” Bea asked as tears collected in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks unnoticed. Her hands were still trembling and was her voice.

  Bradley sat down next to his Aunt and put an arm around her shoulders. “She is at Brightmore Manor.”

  “Tell me about her,” Aunt Bea asked as she turned to look at Bradley.

  “She is beautiful, like you. She is a companion to Brightmore's bride. They came from Boston, Massachusetts…America. She seems happy and she is well taken care of to be sure.”

  Aunt Bea nodded. “That's where I was when…” Bradley stood and began to pace.

  “Your parents should not have lied to you. Bloody, hell,” he muttered. Then realizing his language was not appropriate, he muttered, “Sorry.” Bradley was stunned at the entire story. Poor Aunt Bea.

  Aunt Bea nodded her understanding. “Yes. It is disturbing. They are both gone, so I don't have the opportunity to rant at them for their actions,” she sighed. “It isn't easy being a parent, Bradley. You will see someday. Although one can't excuse such a deception. They were more worried for their reputation than my happiness or that of their granddaughter. I am devastated. How could they ignore their own granddaughter?”

  “I think I should go back to Brightmore Manor and prepare them for your visit. Do you agree?” he asked her as he sat down again. Aunt Bea had a lot on her mind. She was rattled, that was certain. Bradley hated to see her go through this. She was such a good person. It was unconscionable that this would happen to her. She seemed haunted and needed the time to adjust.

  “I suppose that would be best, Bradley. I must tell Gavin.” She sighed. “Gavin is…he is wonderful to me. I cannot complain.”

  “Of course.”

  “I should give you a few days, perhaps a week or two to let things settle…It will be such a shock. And I will need time too. Do you think she will forgive me?”

  “For what? Damn it. You did nothing wrong. You ask parents for their help because you trust them. Then they betray you. There is nothing you should feel badly about,” Bradley declared with emotion.

  “You are such a dear. Always in my corner. I love you very much, Bradley, but don't let this upset you. We will survive this.” She reached over and kissed him on the cheek. “I have a daughter and my boys have a step-sister. It is all so extraordinary.”

  As Bradley left his Aunt, he knew he needed time to think. He wanted to present this in the best way possible light to give his Aunt an opportunity to get to know her daughter. Surely Miss Balston will give Aunt Bea an opportunity to talk to her. But then what? Where would this go…if Miss Balston was declared Aunt Bea's daughter, then she would be a lady and would have no need to work as a ladies companion. He didn't have much time with Miss Balston, but she seemed kind and well-mannered. How bizarre this all was.

  Chapter 13

  Brightmore Manor, 1830

  Clouds darkened the sky and rain drops started to dot the ground. It was going to come down in sheets soon. The wedding had boasted a sunny crisp fall day with just a few clouds scattered in the otherwise blue sky. Amy rolled over in her warm bed as strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into the hard chest of her husband.

  “I was waiting for you to wake, sleepyhead.”

  “What time is it?” Amy whispered in a groggy voice. Her hair looked like she had been ravished. It was long and tangled like a cloud of snow around her flushed face. Her blue eyes were large and bright giving her a youthful glow and sparkle to her face. She was beautiful when she first woke up. Her lips were rosy and pouty with the thought of awakening. She stretched her arms out even though Arden held her against him. “What now, husband?”

  “If you have to ask, I have not done so well by you,” he teased as he kissed her neck.

  “It is cold,” she muttered as she pulled up the blanket.

  “I shall warm you,” he said in a husky voice she soon recognized. His arms moved down her arms and then touched her hips. Arden's hands were large and yet gentle. They performed like magic, building a fire that followed anywhere he touched. It was as if he were a blind man touching her to create an image for his eyes. He was a sensitive lover, patient and giving. He wanted to give her pleasure and sought the answers to her secrets. He looked at her as if he could see inside her soul, as naked as her body was.

  She wasn't cold any longer. Far from it. Her arms wrapped around his back and felt the muscles as they flexed. His skin was not as soft as hers. She felt his strength and marveled at how gentle and tender he was when his body was capable of snapping her in two. She saw and felt the scar from a knife wound and other scars that must carry adventurous stories. She knew enough about Arden now to know he was defending someone weaker or something that was right and ethical. The wound was deep and frightening in appearance. Her fingers gently traced the scar.

  “Arden, will it always be like this for us?” she asked as she kissed his chest and touched his hardened nipples with her tongue as she had learned from him.

  “Yes, I think we will always have magic in our lovemaking,” he whispered as he sought her mouth for a kiss. His lips moved over hers gently back and forth sliding his tongue along the seam until she opened for him. Then he plunged into her mouth with his tongue mimicking the thrusting of love making. His sinful mouth seemed wicked in its intent. There was an ache that started in her stomach and created a stir that was becoming uncomfortable. She arched her back in need of something more. She was on fire, a burning path wherever his fingers and mouth touched her. He moved down her naked body kissing and licking her chest, breasts and then her stomach. She began to squirm, seeking release.

  “Easy love,” he whispered as he moved between her legs. His hands moved her thighs wider apart to give him access. He kissed her thighs moving side to side giving each soft feather-like kisses. “I love the scent of you, the taste of your skin. I could love you each hour of the day. You are perfection.”

  “Oh, Arden. What are you doing to me?”

  Arden used his fingers to open her pink folds and his tongue first licked her wetness and then thrust into her opening. Amy bucked and her fingers plunged into his thick hair urging him for more. She moaned as his tongue worked its magic and then when she thought she couldn't tolerate another second his fingers squeezed her nub and she screamed her release. The climax seemed to never end, causing contractions that jerked her body for several seconds. Before she could capture her breath she heard Arden's gentle voice. The rich timber of his deep voice drove her wild. It made her heart beat faster and butterflies burst from her stomach.

  “Breathe Amy, breathe.” And then he moved up her body between her legs and thrust into her with one powerful plunge. Yes, that is what she needed. He knew exactly how to pleasure her. She was lost in the moment. It was intense and passionate. Her body was like a musical instrument and Arden knew how to play it. He was skilled and driven. Could a person die of this? She was most certainly out of control. The thrusting was powerful and the rhythm intense and powerful driving toward the ultimate climax.

  “Let go, Amy. Come with me.” He urged her as perspiration began to drip from his reddened face. Seeing his expression, so hard and focused, almo
st in pain, she lost control with another powerful climax that pulsated internally kneading his cock until he too climaxed.

  They lay together both exhausted and spent. He took some of his weight off her as he rolled to the side of her, embracing her. Their bodies were moist with perspiration and their breathing was ragged. Arden pulled the bedding up to cover them both. Amy adjusted her head on Arden's shoulder, laying her arm over his chest. She looked up to see his face content and peaceful.

  “I hope I have not made you sore.” He watched her face as she took a deep breath and finally realized she was relaxed.

  “I know your tactics. You want me sore so I cannot walk. Then I will remain in bed and you will do your worst, over and over again.” She smiled up into his face. Tears sparkled in her eyes. She was emotional with the intensity of the moment. Happiness, contentment and satisfaction. It was truly amazing and wondrous.

  He chuckled. “You found me out, wench. I will never have enough of you.” His smile was beautiful with straight white teeth and there was a twinkle in his eyes. He was beautiful when he smiled. His entire face lit up and she saw the goodness in him all over again.

  “What will people think of us, hidden away now for nearly two days,” she asked him.

  “Our guests will think we are newly married and enjoying our first days of marriage. It is a dreary day outside and a perfect day to spend beneath the covers enjoying each other.”

  “It seems so wicked. I am certain I will blush before our guests.”

  “You don't think they may be doing the same things in their beds?” he asked her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. Besides the Duke of Somerset had left after the wedding celebration for London with pressing business. Only a neighbor and his wife remained and they would leave today.

  ****

  Millie had enjoyed her brief time with the Duke of Somerset. He was charming and any girl's dream of story book Prince. She caught herself daydreaming several times fantasying herself as a princess capturing the attention of her prince. She wished he would have stayed a day or two. She enjoyed talking to him. A male friend. She had never had one and it was exciting and bold of her to think of him as her friend. They had shared childhood stories and little confidences that had them laughing and giggling like children. There was never such a unique experience for Millie and she treasured each moment.

  Life was good now for Millie. She walked to the village sometimes with Rosie or collected Jamie and a few other children of the Brightmore Manor and read to them and sometimes helped them with their numbers and writing. The gardens were a beautiful diversion too. A riot of color adorned the flowers beds. Tulips and other bulb plants were thickly planted in front of rose bushes. Curling up on a bench in front of beautifully manicured vegetation reading books selected from the vast library was heavenly. She asked Mrs. Tanner for some mending to do and helped out where she could. All the servants at Brightmore Manor treated her like one of their own. She had friends. Of course Amy was indisposed for the time. It had been several days since the wedding and she hadn't seen or heard from Amy. Daisy told her that Her Grace was happily secluded with His Grace. Millie sighed. Oh, how she wished she could find someone that would love her, marry her and have a dozen children. She was a romantic and not very practical. Dreams were harmless, were they not? But she had made so many friends and felt confident one day she would meet the right person.

  The days were starting to turn cold as winter was fast upon them. The air was brisk and even the threat of rain did not doom her plans for an outdoor retreat. She was fortunate to have the new wardrobe that included coats and warmer gowns. She had new shawls, gloves and caps so it was never a worry to go outside and enjoy some fresh air. The brisk weather was an incentive to walk fast and keep warm as she strolled through massive gardens and lawns of the estate. It was a perfect atmosphere for her daydreams. Even the moist air felt good and invigorating. To have so much time to herself was a new experience and one that felt like what true freedom should be.

  Chapter 14

  Journey from London to Kent, 1830

  The Duke of Somerset paid his respects to his stepmother, following his most interesting visit with Aunt Bea. Charlotte could smother him with her love if he wasn't careful. She tried to get him to stay longer but he was eager to get back to Brightmore Manor. It had been two weeks since the wedding, a reasonable time to give the bride and groom. Besides he could not wait to talk to Arden and prepare them for Aunt Bea's visit.

  Who would have thought Aunt Bea had a grown daughter in her spitting image? He was having enough of a struggle with his thoughts about Miss Balston. Now it was more complicated. She was innocent and sweet and yet intelligent. Not a blood relative, but related to the people he loved. He had to get his head around this new development. He enjoyed being in her company. She made him laugh. She wasn't like the usual mold being turned out these days…women who couldn't hold an intelligent conversation. The weather and the latest fashion or party was the extent of their conversation. They didn't read books or know a twit about politics or what was going on in the world. He found them dull and boring and couldn't imagine himself tied to such a dreary creature. And yet his contemporaries were in agreement that women had a place in life as decorations for a man's arm. Deliver the heir and spare and stay in the background.

  He discovered that he liked to be challenged by an intelligent woman. Miss Balston. Plus she has a sense a humor. He didn't recognize it at first, thinking she was serious, but she was actually teasing him. That was something he hadn't experienced since his boyhood days or perhaps at university. But she was Aunt Bea's daughter. It would stand to reason that she would have the same fine qualities.

  Bloody hell. Did that complicate things? He would have to think on it. He decided to ride his horse to Kent. It was faster and he enjoyed the exercise. He started off with a reasonable trot and then Bradley gave his horse his head and they raced with the wind. All thoughts were forgotten while they raced as one. When his horse tired, he slowed the pace and inhaled the country air. It always felt good to experience the fresh air. He had that in common with Arden, that and being neighbors in Kent.

  He had a purpose to this trip and yet he found himself thinking about seeing Miss Balston and renewing their acquaintance. That thought alone was of comfort to him. He thought to talk to Arden first to brief him not only on what he had learned, but the imminent visit from his aunt. He had no idea what to expect. Hysteria? Drama? That part was a mystery to him and he did not look forward to it. He decided it would help to have Arden aware and perhaps decide on a good strategy.

  It seemed like his journey was short. Perhaps all the thinking distracted him. Even the brisk air and slight drizzle didn't take away from what seemed little time and a pleasant trip. He turned onto the road that would take him to Brightmore Manor. A line of oak trees welcomed him to familiar turf. His horse was tired and he too recognized the need to walk and relax. As he came to the cobblestone circular drive, a footman greeted him and took his horse to be cared for in the Brightmore stables. Godwin opened the door and greeted him.

  “Ah, Good afternoon, Your Grace. Please do come in.” Godwin took his coat.

  “Is His Grace taking callers, Godwin? I have important business to discuss with him,” Bradley said as he glanced around.

  “He is in the library at his desk. I will announce you.” As Godwin turned and started toward the library, Bradley as usual waited for no announcement and followed him. Godwin sighed with boredom because this was a routine they had. Godwin didn't even bother to turn and scold Bradley because it never did any good. Godwin knocked briskly with his signature knock and opened the door to the library.

  Bradley smiled around Godwin's torso. Arden was at his desk working with some papers as Amy was seen with her arms around his neck looking over his shoulder. Seeing Godwin she took her arms from around Arden's neck and smiled graciously.

  “Look, Arden, we have company. How good to see you again so soon, Bradley. I trust
you enjoyed the wedding festivities,” Amy said as she walked toward Bradley to greet him. He took her hand and brushed her knuckles with a kiss.

  “Ah, you look well Amy. Married life suits you.” Godwin shook his head in defeat and backed out of the room. Amy blushed but kept her composure.

  “I will send for tea,” Godwin said before closing the door, rolling his eyes as he did so.

  “Bradley,” Arden said as he removed himself from behind the desk to greet his friend. “What brings you back to Brightmore Manor so soon?”

  “I have some urgent business to discuss with you, Arden. It couldn't wait.”

  “I will leave you men to discuss business. I promised Eva and Millie an outdoor adventure. Perhaps hide and seek in the garden will suffice,” Amy said as she nodded to her husband and then to Bradley. Bradley tipped his head in acknowledge of her exit and walked over to take a chair by Arden's desk. Arden could not hide his admiration for his wife as he stared at her retreat.

  “I could use a brandy, old friend. I think I ate all the dust on the road from London to Brightmore Manor.”

  Arden looked surprised. “You rode here all the way from London? A carriage would have been more comfortable, Bradley.” He went to the cabinet behind his desk and took his brandy bottle and poured two glasses of brandy and handed one to Bradley as he moved a chair to face his friend. “Now you have my attention. What drove you to ride all the way here just after seeing me just two weeks ago?” One eyebrow went up in question as he sipped the brandy.

  “I met with my aunt and learned why the resemblance is so uncanny between Miss Balston and my favorite aunt.” Bradley took a sip of the brandy and sighed. “The brandy is good. I was parched.”

  “Well, I assume they are related,” Arden said stretching out his long legs.

  Bradley nodded. “It seems she was married young and without consent from her parents and ran off to America with her groom. She lost her husband to an unfortunate accident in America. When she was stranded with no money, and with child, she wrote her parents for help.” He shook his head in disgust. “Of course they came to her aid. She had the child in America and was told by her parents that the child died in childbirth.” He took another sip of brandy and sighed. “She then went back to England and started a new life.”